Corruption
by Somerandomguy23
Summary: A Destroyer seeking to remove all evil in the world. A child left behind by her parents, seeking to spread peace. An elven princess, seeking to explore the wilds and avoid marriage to one she doesn't love. A lord's daughter, cast out for her father's infidelity. An unlikely group, which only grows as they balance avoiding war with discovering the cause of a deadly corruption
1. Anew

**Hello to the poor souls who found their way to my story. If you read it, thanks i guess. DND Au btw, I haven't played DND but i've tried to stay as close to what i've read as i could. not my characters obvi**

**Enjoy-Somerandomguy23**

Chapter 1

Perseus had a rough childhood. He never knew his father, and everyone knew that in the small town they lived. He was mocked by the children, received nothing more than a disdainful glance from adults and shoved aside by the rare adventurer that visited the sleepy town. His paper white skin and strange sea-green eyes were the main points of mockery. Even the renowned high elf ranger Orion had made scornful comments when Percy tripped before his hero. He cried and hid in his room for the rest of the day. He was the son of a simple sweets maker named Sally, who had no other living family left. When they disappeared into the night, no one bat an eye. Percy knew he should have given up long ago. The orc showed no hesitation when he confidently strode into the catacombs, or when he casually strode into the room full of strange robed men and dropped her onto an alter. He knew he should have ran before anything happened, before he did something stupid and got himself killed as well. But he couldn't, not when his mother was in danger, so he charged. The surprise attack he attempted failed miserably, and he was forced into bindings next to the altar, next to his unconscious mother. "Let us go!" Percy shouted angrily, lashing out with his legs at whichever cultist that came too close.  
"What do we do with this one, Father?" the cultists turned to the only unhooded robed man in the room.  
The old man was human, as far as Percy could tell, and his voice had a strange quality he couldn't name. "The Great Lady has provided us with a young mind to lead us in a new age!" the man slowly brought his arms out in a wide 'behold' gesture, receiving a roar of approval from all in the room. "But first," he said with an unnatural smile on his face, "we must prepare the boy for the power of the rightful queen!" They all dove into action, and Percy's screams filled the catacombs.

Nyx glanced around the bland town, uninterested but alert. She wasn't sure just how far the cultists claws were sunk into this pathetic town, but she could feel the power of whatever dark deity they were worshipping palpable in the air. Whatever ritual they were planning on performing was happening now and she needed to find their base before they released the stupid deity unto the world. "Come out wherever you are." She murmured, before pulling her pendant out of her pocket and following the glowing pulse into the catacombs. The tension in the air was broken by high pitched screams echoing through the halls.  
'Looks like they found their victim.' she thought grimly. She began to finger the pommel of her shortsword and increase her pace, as the pendant's pulse became more and more insistent. If she failed her mistress, it wouldn't be pretty for her. The screams grew closer, but quieter, Nyx's pace became more panicked, and she started to hear the chanting.  
"With this offering of mortal blood, we, the following of Loviatar, the great goddess of pain, call upon our mighty goddess, may you grant upon us this day your blessing, grant this child your power so that we may rise once more and lift our goddess amongst the heavens to be praised as she deserves. With this final blood offering I ask you to take this child as a mortal ho-," the cultist's heads all shot up and they watched in horror as he began to choke on his own blood around the knife in his throat. Nyx almost let out a sigh of relief. Almost. In a desperate ploy, one of the cultist lunged for the chalice of blood, and barely caught it before it all spilled to the floor. In a dead sprint, blade hanging from her white-knuckled grip, Nyx was barely ahead of the cultist. That is to say, before a new cult member threw himself at her legs, managing to pull her to the floor, allowing the other to cover the last crucial meters. All eyes were on the boy, who upon closer inspection had summoning sigils and symbols carved into his skin, as the cultist, with a victorious smirk on his face, forced the boy's mouth open and poured the blood in.

Percy didn't recall passing out, if you could call it that. His delirious state only managed to understand some of the words being said, something about blood and sacrifices, before his head was sharply tilted upwards, and some thick, sticky liquid was forced down his throat. The taste of copper overwhelmed his senses and he weakly struggled against his binds. After what seemed like hours, the fluid, blood, his hazy mind suggested, had run out, and the pain started.  
It was an aching, burning, stabbing throbbing stinging pain and why was it not stopping. Percy let out a desperate scream, body arching and curling and trembling trying frantically to get away from the all-encompassing pain, and he had to wonder if he had been dragged straight to hell for he didn't even know what. It barely registered to him that his binds had been cut, or that these new hands gently lifting him into cautious arms were softer and kinder than the cultists had been during his handling. His body felt aflame and every jostle drew a soft whimper from him as he weakly curled up further.  
"Shhh young one, all will right itself in the end." a voice echoed in his mind, soft and female and almost sounding as concerned as his mother. What followed was an icy relief flowing down his back like water, and his entire body stilled and relaxed, as he fell asleep.

A few minutes earlier

Nyx was frozen in shock, as were all the fanatics surrounding her, as the child spasmed on the floor, his body contorting in awful shapes as he let out a weak, wordless scream. That brought Nyx into rushed action, her hands moving in sharp movements and harsh syllables fell from her lips as she began casting her spell, only to stop in a stupor when she realized something was happening to all the cultists. They were sprawled across the floor, all contorting in shapes similar to the boys, faces twisted up in agony. 'Forget them," the voice of her patron echoed into her mind, "Care for the boy, the rest are already taken care of." The voice retreated from her mind, and Nyx rushed to the child, cautiously picking him up and trying to ignore the strange pangs in her heart as the boy whimpered and shook in pain.  
"Shh young one, all will be right in the end." she murmured, carefully sitting against a tree just outside the catacombs, as she used much of her magic reserve to soothe the boy's pain. With time to relax she began to examine the boy with his head resting on her collarbone. She took note of his paper white skin, which contrasted so heavily with his raven black hair, and how the skin on his back was now heavily littered with symbols drawn along his arms and a summoning circle surrounding the barbed, nine-tailed scourge that would now be a permanent reminder of how close he was to being the host of a deity. With the last bits of her energy, she sent a raven off to Erebus with a report on the mission, before she fell asleep.  
Nyx woke up to a pained scream and the guarded stares of the townspeople, which she promptly ignored in favor of checking the boy in her lap for injuries. He was shaking and muttering, with a fearful and pained expression, which caused Nyx to gently wake him up. With soft reassurances and her hand running through his hair, she slowly drew him from his nightmares. The boy's eyes almost made her do a double take. Unnatural green eyes stared back at her.  
"Who are you?" he said, almost all his muscles tensing, before he flinched and relaxed.

"No one important, young one," Nyx gently ran her hand down his back, using magic in an attempt to soothe his pain, "What is your name?" she asked gently.

"Perseus, Ma'am," Perseus said, "Your turn."

"I am called Nyx, and i have an important offer for you Perseus."

"Really?" Perseus stared at her suspiciously, "What do you want from me?" he wriggled in her arms but didn't have the strength to escape.

"I am part of a group," she paused in thought, "That stops very bad things from happening, and I want you to come with me. You would get to train and learn how to stop bad things, like what happened to you and your mother from happening ever again." she finished awkwardly. She never really talked to the new recruits about what they did, much less an actual child. Percy adjusted so he could stare her in the eyes.

"You want to take me?" he asked, wide-eyed with shock, "Nobody's ever wanted to train me before." he murmured to himself. He suddenly grew shy. "Are you sure? I'm not really smart or strong or fast like the other kids. I just look funny." Percy admitted.

"I am picking you, child, because you have the bravery to follow a dangerous man into the scariest part of this little town." Nyx said softly, letting her eyes drift upwards to glare at the villagers, who shrunk back in fear of this strangers fearsome gaze.

"If you're sure." he yawned, putting his sharper-than-average teeth on display.

"I am." she replied, "now sleep, little one, no harm will befall you." she easily hoisted the boy into her arms, and allowed his head to rest on her shoulder.


	2. A new beginning

Chapter 2

**Hey y'all, thanks for reviews and favorites and follows. I'll try to keep with the updating at a decent pace. **

**-Somerandomguy23**

Seven years before Chapter 1

Ander Brightwood was a simple man, with a vow of priesthood to Eldath, the goddess of peace. He was the child of a pair of forgotten nobles, who were both killed by some strange group of rebels, hellbent on changing the world for what they believed to be the better. He didn't really know his parents, or what they had done to deserve death, so he was decidedly neutral. That is, until they started to cause chaos throughout the lands, intent on instating the natural 'strongest will survive' ideals, that were now only prevalent among the beasts and the savages.

He was brought from his thoughts by the loud rapping of a hand against the door of the temple. Curious, as it was long after dark and many if not all of the townsfolk would be asleep by now, he quietly plodded to the door, his bare feet lightly slapping against the cold stones. Without preamble, he calmly and easily pulled the wooden door open, letting his eyes drift out into the streets. Seeing nothing at first, he rolled his eyes. 'One of those annoying tieflings must be trying to steal the offerings again.' he thought irritatedly, before the ire vanished at the sound of soft cooing by his feet.

He looked down to see a pair of unnaturally warm brown eyes staring back at him, with a curious gaze. Quickly, he stooped down and scooped the little bundled child into his arms.  
"What are you doing here, much less on a night so cold, youngling?" Ander asked, steely blue eyes still locked with the baby's, before they quickly darted in every direction. He found no answer to his question, and, suddenly feeling a rush of sorrow for this poor child, carefully cradled her closer as he walked back into the temple, shutting and locking the door, before wandering back into his room. He would alert the others of this matter tomorrow at breakfast, he decided, and quickly made a makeshift crib out of one of the empty coffers. He packed a few pillows in the box, before cautiously laying the babe into it, relaxing when she didn't begin to cry.

"We will be your family, youngling." he whispered, before retiring to his own bed, and falling into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning

Ander woke up to sunlight streaming into his eyes, and the light giggling of the baby. He got up, taking a minute to check on the child, before changing and heading downstairs with her resting comfortably in his arms. It didn't take long for the other priests to notice.

"Ander! Is that a baby?" of course Arveene was the one to shout. She had a bad habit of gossiping, and liked to be the first to know things.

"Yes, Arveene, and I would appreciate it if you refrained from shouting in the temple." he responded tiredly. He was used to her acting this way but that didn't make it less irritating.

"Where did you find it? Is it yours? YOU SLEPT WITH SOMEO-" He decided to stop her there, everyone in the room was staring.

"Enough Arveene, I have maintained my oath, if you would be quiet than I could explain." he only received inquisitive looks of varying intensity.

"I woke to a knock on the temple door, and when I went to investigate, I found her laying out in the cold. I took her in and decided we would choose her fate." he let his eyes drift across everyone in the room, before landing on the bundled baby now playing with the fingers of his free hand.

"We should keep her." Mhurren called, much to everyone's surprise. Mhurren was a silent type, the half orc didn't like to draw attention to himself, preferring to silently observe. "Teach her the ways of peace, to eventually become a cleric."

"Are you serious, the temple of Eldath is no place to raise a child." Jelenneth, the high elf, contested. She always did try to stick with the rules. That had no effect on Arveene, however.

"We could TOTALLY teach her to be the best priestess and cleric EVER!" she began to get more and more excited as she kept talking.

In the end, it was a nigh' unanimous vote to keep her, before another pressing question was asked.

"What will her name be?" Mhurren asked.

Ander stared at the child, before coming to a decision.  
"Hestia," he decided, "her name will be Hestia.

A few years later

The girl stared at the plate heaped with pastries before her, glancing one way, then the other, before lunging for the plate. She could practically taste the sweet berries and honey on her tongue, when two robed arms wrapped around her midsection, causing the half-elf to let out a squeal of shock as her surrogate father manhandled her away from the sweets.

"Daaaaaad." Hestia whined, briefly struggling before surrendering and going slack in his arms.

"You know you're not supposed to eat those, they're for the banquet." her father chastised, maneuvering her onto his shoulder. "Do I need to summon Mhurren or Jelenneth to keep you out of trouble?" he started to maneuver through the hallways, as he reminisced over the last couple years. Hestia quickly gained the favor of the priests and priestess of the church, despite the hesitation of some. Others, like Avreene, were instigators that caused chaos amongst the more stern priests, much to the amusement of Ander and the visitors.

"It's not my fault you left them out! Besides, Avreene wanted one." Hestia whined, lightly curling her arm around his head for stability.

"Well both you and Avreene can wait until we eat dinner before the sweets." he countered as he reached their destination, lifting her off his shoulder and placing her directly in front of Jelenneth, who stared down at her warmly yet sternly.

"What did she do this time?" Jelenneth's gaze briefly moved from her, much to Hestia's relief.

"She claims that Avreene sent her to take sweets from the cart before the banquet," he paused and let that soak in before continuing, "Would you be so kind as to prepare her for dinner?" Hestia's incredulous gaze met his calm, but before she could protest, Jelenneth grabbed her shoulder.

"Of course, she will be prepared before guests arrive." she replied, beginning to drag Hestia down the hallways, ignoring her muttered complaints.

"Come on, Jele, I can get ready on my own." Hestia attempted to pry her hand off, but 'Jele' had an unrelenting iron grip.

"I'm sure you can, Hes, but you probably won't until it's too late in favor of attempting to steal more sweets." she replied nonchalantly, ignoring Hestia's whining in favor of mentally choosing which dress she would be wearing.


End file.
